


Hurricane

by tentacledicks



Series: Into The Storm [10]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 17:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: People keep going missing in downtown San Francisco, including a member of DedSec. When Marcus and the rest of the gang start to investigate, their mission runs face first into one that Aiden Pearce is involved in too—but this time, close and personal instead of from behind the safety of a camera and a drone.When all of that piles on top of a job Jordi Chin's working, Marcus begins to wonder if he's pissed off any unloving gods recently.





	1. Retr0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started thinking about this back in 2018 when Moonlight asked if I was going to write something with Jordi and Aiden meeting up with SF DedSec. A short one-shot wasn't going to cut it, so a shorter fic ended up being what got planned out and then... fell by the wayside as I focused on other stuff.
> 
> The WIP Big Bang was a pretty good chance to dust it off and work on it again. I've been _dying_ to post it for months now. :P

**September 14th, 2017 20:41**

  


“Shit, man, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Marcus breathed, back pressed to the door of a storage closet. Boxes of office supplies towered next to him, an old, broken copy machine shoved into a corner out of the way. It was cramped conditions, but at least no one would look for him here.

“Still no eyes?” Wrench’s voice crackled over the group call, the double layers of electronic distortion not _ quite _ enough to hide his worry.

“Nothing. If they don’t have cameras, I can’t see through them.” Josh was frustrated. That was understandable. Marcus was pretty goddamn frustrated too, right about now.

New Dawn might have taken a hit to their reputation after the Siska leaks, but they weren’t ones to go down without a fight. The legal battle, against Jimmy Siska and a few other celebs who’d come forward, had been dragging out for two years now. DedSec wasn’t part of that, not with how they’d set up their videos, but they’d been keeping an eye on the whole situation, ready to hop in if they were needed.

Someone else had decided to hop in first.

Shifting his weight up, Marcus tugged the neatly folded drone off the clip on his laptop bag, setting it on the floor in front of him. This was the best bolthole he’d get for now, and he needed _ some _ kind of optics on the building. He pulled his laptop out too, flipping it open and pulling up the drone’s control program, automatically streaming its feed back to the Hackerspace as well.

“Look, I’ll see what I can find with this, but for a quick surveillance gig? This is some pretty hot water, y’all.” He kept his voice low, fingers flying across the keyboard as the drone came to life, unfolding and rolling forwards. Those office supplies made a handy set of steps up to a vent.

“Dude, how the fuck do you do that so smooth?”

“That’s called _ practice_, Wrench. You should try it sometime.” A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips, the vent stretching dark and endless in front of the camera. Outside of the closet, there was a thud of running feet, then silence again.

“Aw, come on, that’s not fair. I practice all the time! Just on important stuff, like video games and sucking di—” There was a garbled crackle of static and then a hoot of laughter, clear as day.

“_Enough_, Wrench. Let Marcus concentrate. We’ll be on the line.” Sitara’s clipped command came out as regal as any general’s, but Marcus wasn’t about to complain. Wrangling the cats was a job he didn’t envy, and the lack of chatter made it easier to concentrate.

Not so easy to avoid thinking about the reams of armed guards running around outside his hiding spot though. It’d be cool. He just needed to focus.

Empty office after empty office—not just empty of people, but empty of things too. No desks, no chairs, no new copy machines to replace the broken one hiding in here with him. For a place that was supposed to be running psych surveys and helping people find jobs, it sure was suspiciously lacking in all the equipment to do so.

But that’s why they were there, wasn’t it? This used to be an old New Dawn survey location, one of those places where they’d get people in and then pressure them until they joined the cult. It had gone up for rent again when the legal battle stretched out past New Dawn’s generous coffers, then been leased again about two months ago. Two very fucking weird months, culminating in one of their own going missing—CatSkillz, a feisty redhead with a penchant for social engineering. She’d been last seen walking into this building.

Marcus steered his drone around a corner, making a careful K turn in the vents, then came to a stop in front of a grate. _ This _ room wasn’t empty at all. _ This _ room had a small, cordoned off section with hospital beds, a few desks that actually had paper on them and—bingo!—a desktop computer with its tower still on, only the monitor asleep.

“Found our in, guys.” The grate knocked open after two careful, deliberate thumps. Marcus paused, listening to the audio feed intently, but he couldn’t pick up anything. Slowly, he rolled the drone out, scooting it across the carpeted floor as quickly as he could until it was finally tucked under the desk next to the tower.

That was the hard part. _ This _ part was the easy one.

With the drone plugged in, he and Josh could both access the desktop. Which was good, because that was a layer of encryption Marcus hadn’t been expecting. His eyebrows shot up, a low, involuntary whistle escaping his pursed lips

“That’s way over the standard encryption for HIPAA compliance, right?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“It might be easier to download it all and try and decrypt it on a clean computer here,” Josh said, a faint hint of frustration in flat voice. “Get it on a hard drive and I’ll work with it. The connection’s too spotty for us to download it without you closer.”

“Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Marcus shut his laptop, sliding it back into his bag. Damn, damn, _ damn, _ he didn’t like the feeling of this. All those empty rooms had him spooked, but the memory on the drone was too full to take on a download that large. His fault for not wiping it before he left but—shit, this had been _ surveillance_, not anything _ big_.

“Stay safe.” Josh’s voice was a quiet, neutral comfort before the line went dead again. Wrench must have dropped the call or gotten distracted, because he wouldn’t have let Marcus head off into dangerous waters without goading and concern both.

He stood carefully, plastering himself to the wall next to the door before opening it a crack. Without cameras, and with half the guards missing their phones, he couldn’t keep an electronic eye on them. That was a problem. Lucky for him that he’d been breaking into places and sneaking out again long before he’d been able to access ctOS and the rest of Blume’s framework.

No footsteps in the hall, and no shadows either. Marcus peeked around the doorframe, checked again, then slipped out silently. The closet door clicked softly behind him, the dull thrum of the HVAC system the only sound left behind.

“Oh, _ fuck _ this,” Marcus muttered under his breath, moving down the hallway as quickly as he could. The silence ate at him, dangerous the same way the glaring, fluorescent lights were dangerous. His steps were muffled by the carpet, but that meant that everyone _ else’s _ steps were too.

He’d be cool. This was fine. The vents ran parallel to this hallway before cutting into a set of rooms and _ then _ running at an angle towards his destination. Marcus had to navigate around two corners and down three stretches of hall to get to his destination, and then it was just a matter of finding the emergency exit and booking it.

Easy, right? And even if there _ were _ armed guards, it wasn’t like he was in the fucking FBI field office again. He’d snuck around way more dangerous situations before. No worries.

Didn’t stop the anxiety from creeping up his spine as he reached the first corner, especially when there was no one around it. Maybe all those horror movie marathons with Wrench had been a bad idea. Ghost movies were whatever, but this shit right here was a _ prime _ alien-symbiote-zombie-cyborg introduction scene, some fucked up monster mash just ready to come bursting out of the pleasantly eggshell walls. Was it an absurd thought? Yes. Did Marcus want to reenact the elevator scene from Cabin in the Woods anyways? _ Fuck _ no.

Eggshell walls, dark green carpet, light wood trim, each door he passed that had a faux oak finish that reminded him, inevitably, of the principal’s office at his old middle school. Not any of the other doors in the school, just that one. The oppressive weight and knowledge that he’d fucked up somehow was hard to shake.

Second corner, still no one in sight. This stretch was the long end of a T section though, and he could feel that emptiness at his back, itching between his shoulder blades. Halfway down it, he finally heard a shift in the sound.

The jig was up. If they hadn’t seen him down the hall yet, they would soon.

“Marcus, there’s people in the room with your drone,” Josh interrupted, right as he stretched his legs to run. “A lot of them. Marcus, you need to turn back.”  
  
“Shit!” Did he have time? Marcus stopped, twisted to stare at the hint of shadows at the far end of the hall. It had taken him about ten seconds to get here from the corner. If he moved fast, he might make it back to the first intersection without anyone seeing him, and if he kept running, he might be able to make it—

There was the soft click of a door opening, and then a hand wrapped tight around his mouth, yanking him back. Marcus cut off his own yell of surprise, hands flying up to grab at the wool covering his lips, blunt nails scraping against the leather of man’s jacket.

The door swung shut, leaving him alone in the room with the fucker who’d grabbed him. 

And then. Let him go?

Marcus spun around, hand flying back to his thunderball as his laptop bag thudded against his back. The man in front of him lifted his hands in a show of surrender, green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He wasn’t wearing his hat this time but—no fucking way. No _ fucking _ way. What were the odds of him running into _ The _ Vigilante twice?

“Look,” Aiden Pearce said, apparently completely unaware that they were sort-of, kind-of, familiar, “you’ve got this place riled up like an anthill, and I need whatever information you’re getting on that drone. If I get you out of here alive, are you okay sharing?”

“Dude, are you serious right now?” Marcus gaped at him, Josh’s voice joined by Wrench’s and Sitara’s on the group call. “No—guys, hold off a second okay? Lemme talk to him.”

The Vigilante tipped his head thoughtfully, like he hadn’t realized Marcus was on call, and that made something his stomach drop. Marcus had seen the bodies of the Auntie Shu left rotting in a shipping container, had watched Aiden Pearce tear through Bratva like a hot knife through butter the second he had his weapons back. If the man wanted him dead, he was pretty sure he’d be dead.

“Tell your friends I’m not planning on anything crazy,” Pearce said, holding up his phone. “Better yet, patch me in. All I want is the information on where they’re taking the women. DedSec can keep everything else.”

“Wait.” Sitara’s voice came through his earpiece, loud and clear. Hard. CatSkillz had been a friend of hers. “Does he know something we don’t?”

“I’m gonna put him in on our call,” he warned her, and more importantly, Josh. 

Pearce waited patiently, one hand lifting to his _ own _ earpiece as Marcus pinged his phone, dragging him into the group conversation. “Hey. Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal—_if _ you get Retr0 out alive,” she said. Marcus shrugged slightly when Pearce looked at him. If he had to, he could get out, but he didn’t like the idea of taking those guards on by himself. And the Vigilante was sort of a hero, right? He’d pulled the wool off everyone’s eyes in Chicago, and he clearly cared about people going missing.

So why did Marcus still feel that stone in his gut, weighing him down?

“I’ll get him out alive,” Pearce said, resting a hand on Marcus’s shoulder as he leaned against the door to listen. “Unharmed, even.”

“That’s a bold claim right there,” Marcus muttered, unable to help himself. He caught a flicker of a smile on Pearce’s face before it was shut down again, the scarf tugged up over his mouth. The pit in Marcus’s gut grew deeper.

“Have you got a gun?” Pearce asked, distant look on his face.

“Uh, a _ stun _ gun, sure, but I need to reload it after every shot. I’m not shooting anyone, dude.” Marcus pulled the bandana up over his mouth too, just in case, but he hoped Pearce could see the look he was getting. The _ fuck _ was with white men and shooting people? Wrench had that problem too.

“Twenty more seconds before the download finishes,” Josh announced.

“You’re not going to be happy if I gun our way out of here, are you?” Pearce tipped his head thoughtfully, words slightly muffled by the scarf around his mouth. 

“The whole point of _ sneaking _ in and _ sneaking _ out is to not leave a trail of bodies behind! If we wanted to stack the guards up in a funeral pyre, _ Wrench _ would have been on this one.” Nevertheless, Marcus drew his stun gun, thunderball held in his left hand.

“It’s true and you should say it,” Wrench said cheerfully. “If the blueprints I’m looking at are right, you’ve got a fire exit straight down the hall to your right. Can’t miss it.”

“Got it,” Marcus said, Pearce’s voice a deeper, rougher echo to his own.

“Download finished. Just leave the drone behind, Marcus, they’re still in the room. We’ll print another.” Josh’s voice was even and neutral again, his focus already turning towards the data they’d pulled.

“Go ahead and blow it—the sound will cover us bustin’ out of here. In three, two—” Marcus jerked his chin and heard a loud bang from down the hall. Not even a second later, Pearce yanked the door open, slamming his tactical baton into the back of a guard’s neck.

They both jumped over his prone body, Marcus half a step faster as he pulled into the lead. Behind him, he could hear guards starting to shout—either because the drone had started a small electrical fire, or because they’d seen their companion go down. Either way, he wasn’t slowing to check, all of his energy directed at reaching the exit.

The hint of shadow gave a group of guards away—as he came around the corner, Marcus was already swinging his thunderball, cracking two men in the skull with it. The third stumbled back, fumbling his gun up as Marcus dove underneath it, swinging the thunderball back up and letting momentum take it, driving the gun out of the guard’s hands.

He didn’t see the fourth guard in time. Before he could react, there was the muted crack of a pistol behind him, and the man fell backwards in a bright red spray of blood.

“Fuck!” he swore, launching himself forward anyways. Couldn’t dwell on that. Couldn’t think about some guy catching a bullet because _ he’d _ been a little too slow, and the memory of those Auntie Shu corpses stacked up like garbage tried to float to the surface.

A hard grip on the back of his jacket caught him when he hit the grate of the fire escape a little too hard, sending him down the stairs instead. There was a sedan parked not too far away, and Aiden Pearce was right on his heels. Marcus holstered the stun gun, pulled out his phone, then hit the trigger for a blackout as he landed on the pavement, not stopping for even a second.

The doors unlocked at a touch, the engine already turning over as he swung into the driver’s seat. Pearce thudded into the passenger’s seat next to him, slamming the door and barking, “Let’s go!”

Marcus went. Tried not to think about the guard maybe bleeding out. Sure, he’d caused a couple concussions in his time, but there was a far fucking difference between a nasty head injury and a bullet in a major artery.

Fuck this.

“What have we got, Sit?” he asked, all too aware of the Vigilante in the seat next to him, craning his head back to look through the rear window. If she wanted him to go to a less secure Hackerspace, he would, but he was feeling the need for some human contact right about now. _ Nice _ human contact. Human contact that didn’t involve shooting people.

“A lot of work is what we’ve got. Josh and Ray are on the decryption, but Wrench and I are here to be the welcome wagon. Go ahead and bring him to the games shop, I don’t want the mess we’ll get if you take him to one of the other hackerpaces,” she said, though she didn’t sound happy about it. Oops.

“Hey, at least I asked permission this time,” Marcus said defensively, pulling into the traffic heading over the bridge.

“See, Sitara? He _ can _ be taught!” Wrench whooped again at the disgusted noise she made, then said, “Traffic should be light, Retr0. See you soon.”

The call ended, which left him in silence with the Vigilante, who’d settled back into his seat properly now that they were away from the office building. Marcus kept glancing over at him, trying to tell if this was real or not—sure, he’d rescued Aiden Pearce’s ass _ once_, but even that felt like a story more than a memory sometimes. Something he’d made up for bragging rights, like Wrench’s _ totally _ believable Jessica Andrews cocaine story.

He looked… older than Marcus thought he should. Yeah, he knew the guy was hitting his forties, but it was like Ray—somehow, in his head, he’d always pictured the old school hackers being eternally young. Not like every other middle-aged guy, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and grey starting to invade the scruff at his jaw.

At least Ray had that whole cool guy stoner look going for him. Aiden Pearce just looked like he should be on a crab boat and talking big to a camera crew.

“I should probably introduce myself,” Pearce said, like he somehow _ wasn’t _ the most recognizable generic white guy in the hacker world, especially in his distinctive jacket.

Marcus choked on a laugh, then hastily adjusted his glasses and kept his eyes on the road. “No, we good. I mean, I know who you are, man—I’ve helped you out before. Remember the Bratva?”

There was a long, thoughtful silence. Then, “I always wondered if that was DedSec’s work. Humor me. I’m Aiden—what’s your name?”

“Marcus. Or, y’know, Retr0, but I guess you already knew that.” It… okay, it _ totally _ stung that the guy didn’t recognize him in return. His face had been plastered everywhere for a hot second when Dusan brought all the weight of ctOS to bear down on him. But he was going to be a big boy and not think about that—shit, there was a reason he got wary of meeting his idols after Jimmy Siska and Raymond Kenney, right?

“I’ve seen you in the IRC before,” Aiden said, taking things in an entirely different direction than he’d been expecting.

“Wait—_you _ hang around in _ our _ IRC?” The road ahead was clear, but Marcus didn’t trust it to remain that way. It was the only reason he didn’t stare for longer than a few seconds.

“Sure,” Aiden said, like _ the fucking Vigilante _ just chilling in DedSec channels wasn’t something huge. Sure, it wasn’t like there was a vetting process for the more public channels, but any channels _ Marcus _ was in regularly had at least one tier of security. They should have noticed that. “Yours, a few of the ones on the east coast, the one up in Seattle… I spend most of my time near the coasts these days, so I don’t bother with the Chicago chapter.”

He’d have to talk to Josh about this. No, wait, Sitara too—she was the one who spent most of her hours hanging around the other hackerspaces, directing the controlled chaos of their group. She’d_ definitely _ want to know about this. “What’s your name on there?”

Aiden chuckled softly, but didn’t say anything else. That was fair, honestly. They’d find him eventually. Now that he knew Aiden was hanging around, it’d just be a process of elimination.

They lapsed into silence against as Marcus hit the highway, heading for the hackerspace. Streetlights flickered over the interior of the car, occasionally throwing Aiden’s face into stark relief, glowing over the hard knobs of Marcus’s knuckles as he clenched his fists around the wheel. No way he was taking a hot car right to their doorstep, not when one of their members had already been grabbed, but the weather wouldn’t be too bad this time of year. A few blocks of walking wouldn’t kill them.

The adrenaline finally leached out of his bones on the walk over, Aiden silent and thoughtful at his side. A little voice in the back of his head kept worrying over the dude’s jacket, how distinctive it was, whether people would recognize him, whether this was pulling too much heat onto DedSec _ anyways_—

Marcus stomped on the voice, hard. He’d have a panic attack _ later_, when it was just him and Wrench, tangled up on the couch together and watching some shitty movie. One without guns, just this once.

“Hell of a front,” Aiden said with a soft huff of a laugh as they reached the door of the games shop, empty at this time of night but still lit up. The owner nodded at them, then did a double take when he saw who was following Marcus in towards the back, but mercifully, he kept his mouth shut. The usual guard at the Employees Only doorway wasn’t there.

Sitara was.

She didn’t look very impressed by Aiden, but what else was new? She hadn’t been too impressed by Ray, either. Marcus couldn’t fault the woman for having a set of iron balls when it came to the old school guys. In a fight? He was putting money on _ her_.

“So you’re him, huh?” she said, eyeing Aiden up and down. He looked amused by the scrutiny, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

“That’s what I’m told,” Aiden replied, not moving any further forward.

“Huh.” Sitara shook her head, then sighed and jerked her chin. “Alright, Retr0, you can bring him in. How many of these guys are you gonna pick up, anyways? I’m beginning to think you have a fetish for it.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up,” Marcus said, moving around her with a finger up in the air, “I only have a fetish for _ one _ white guy, and this has only happened once! Well, twice, but come on.”

“Two more times than _ Josh _ has brought people back,” she said with a smirk, her eyes tracking Aiden as he followed Marcus back towards the hackerspace door.

“You know he’s gonna love this though, so I’m kind of doing it for him, right?” He angled his body so Aiden couldn’t see the keypad, plugging the code in and waiting for the door to unseal.

“I’m beginning to get the feeling that I’m something of a novelty,” Aiden said dryly, humming thoughtfully at the stairwell. Sitara brought up the rear behind him, but the guy didn’t seem too worried about it.

He’d gunned down that guard like it was nothing. The sick feeling in Marcus’s chest made a return at the thought that for Aiden Pearce, two unarmed hacktivists were a total nonissue. And he’d brought this guy down here, to their hideout, without thinking of the brutality he could unleash.

“Helloooo Marcus!” The high, electronic glee in Wrench’s voice disrupted his thoughts moments before skinny arms wrapped tight around him and disrupted his breathing. The hard spikes on Wrench’s vest and mask dug into his skin, even through fabric of his clothes but it was—nice. It was nice.

“Man, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, his own arm wrapping tight around Wrench’s shoulders as he steered them out of the way. “You have _ got _ to learn just how much that hurts!”

“You _ like _ it,” Wrench said, flashing carets at him before peering around at Aiden with question marks. “No shit, it really _ is _ him. In the flesh! _ Huge _ fan, really loved what you did with the blackout. It. Was. Sick!”

“I’m not sure if I should say thank you or not,” Aiden said, resting a hand on one of the support beams as he looked around.

“Welcome to the Hackerspace,” Sitara said, leaning on the back of the sofa next to the stairwell. “This is our base of operations, and the one you’ll be working with us out of. We control who comes in here a little more rigidly than the other ones, which means it’ll cut down on the people who can spill the beans.”

“And we _ hate _ spilling beans.” Wrench flashed carets again, still clinging to Marcus like a fucking remora. Not that he could really say much—his arm was still draped over the spiky stretch of Wrench’s shoulders, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as Marcus kept him close.

Emotional awareness wasn’t Wrench’s strong suit, but they had a thing. They could pick up on each other’s emotional states easy as breathing, even when everyone else wasn’t that easy. It was a relief to have Wrench there, so vibrant and alive that the anxiety had no room to creep in around the edges. Marcus rested his cheek against the cloth of Wrench’s hood, then waved his other hand. “This is Wrench—he’s our main liaison on the channels for people who work on the streets and in the gangs. That’s Sitara, the mastermind behind our videos. Josh—Hawt Sauce—is back there, probably working on decrypting our shit. And—”

“T-Bone,” Aiden interrupted, eyebrows high as he looked past them all.

“Shit, Aiden. The fuck are you doing here?”


	2. thefox_

**September 14th, 2017 23:02**

  


With the kid in the green hoodie—Josh, his name was Josh—tucked into the corner by his computer and typing away, this corner of the Hackerspace was the quietest around. The dim lighting helped a bit, as did the low thrum of server fans from the wall behind them, T-Bone’s little workstation a messy collection of wires and computer parts, beer bottles stacked up next to his makeshift desk. 

It wasn’t a good place for a private conversation. But it was the best they were going to get.

“Didn’t expect to see you again,” Aiden said, fingers resting on a sheet of paper tucked under the keyboard of T-Bone’s computer. Numbers, names—nothing incriminating. But useful, if you were an old hacker trying to keep track of all the moving parts in a rapidly evolving underground sect.

How long had he kept his fingers in this little pie? It was such a turnaround from the reclusive engineer he’d had to drag out of his drunken pit back in Pawnee.

“Yeah, color me surprised seeing _ you _ here too. Marcus told me how he helped you out a couple years back, but I wasn’t ever sure if it was the real deal. Seemed like your sort of thing though.” T-Bone—Ray, he might as well call him Ray at this point, if he wasn’t bothering to hide—grinned at him, a hint of wariness in his blue eyes. “Getting caught, that is. You’ve got a knack for it, Aiden.”

“Very funny.” Aiden kept his voice dry and low, glancing back into the rest of the Hackerspace. Outside of Ray’s section, things grew a lot brighter. The overhead lights over a massive work table in the center of the basement were the brightest, shining down on the collective mess of half a dozen people, possibly more. Graffiti and poster supplies spilled out from the corner closest to the stairs, infringing on the electronic clutter of the ‘Wrench Bench’. Three guesses as to who _ that _ workspace belonged to. There were a couple places for people to crash, but most of the Hackerspace was devoted to open areas for DedSec members to mingle, converse, collaborate—work together.

That was what kept throwing him off, now that he stopped to examine it. The collaborative nature of it all. His experience with DedSec, outside of the IRC, had been in Chicago, that vicious nest of snakes all itching to betray each other, held only in check by a shared goal. Ironic, how they’d kept Defalt out of their ranks when he was a better fit than anyone. Doubly so, with this chapter down here so blatant about the marketing of their message.

He had to hand it to them, they had the social media control nailed. Chicago DedSec had used the infrastructure to spread their message and still faltered outside of the underground hacker circles they already ran in. San Francisco DedSec had weaponized a different medium entirely, invited everyone to join in on the message, kept the rigorous vetting for their upper echelons while releasing their less exploitable hacks to the masses. 

It had to be _ killing _ the Council of Daves to know how their vision had been corrupted.

Ray’s eyes were still heavy on him, their bubble of silence surprisingly comfortable. Every so often, the kid in the mask let out a high-pitched hyena cackle, but their conversation was far enough away that he couldn’t pick up on the particulars. Not really a problem. He’d trust them, for now, and part of that meant not bugging their phones to keep tabs of everything they said. Even if his fingers itched to do so.

“You look pretty good for a dead guy,” Ray said, eventually.

“Same to you,” Aiden replied, finally dragging his gaze back to one of the few people he could call a friend these days. “Looks like the coast is doing you good.”

“Oh, it’s cold as shit out here most of the time, but San Fran’s an easy city to get lost in. Helps that I’m investing in some _ serious _ Hawaiian fashion right now.” Ray reached past him, pulled out another beer and popped it open. After a long, contemplative pause, he said, “Frewer’s enjoyin’ it too. Weed’s legal out here—keeps him off the harder shit.”

“I was wondering.” He hadn’t been, actually—hadn’t even realized that Tobias and Ray were back in touch, had figured that the old Blume engineer would hide away again once Aiden was done with him, consumed with paranoia and whichever drugs he could get his hands on. Well. There was that saying about assumptions.

“He’s stashed up outside of all this… shit.” Ray waved a hand at the Hackerspace, lips pulling into a wry smile. “Figures I’d get my shit done and get out but it’s been two years now and the ‘getting out’ part’s harder without Blume breathin’ down my neck.”

“There’s no way he can afford rent out here. Or you, for that matter.” Hell, he wasn’t even sure if _ he _ could afford rent out here, not long term. Not while doing charity work, like it sounded Ray was doing with DedSec.

“Nah, it’s a safehouse a couple hours out. Still pretty fucking high, but not so high that it’s suspicious for a couple of old stoners to make it.” Ray tipped his bottle back, downing half of it in one go. His dreads swung with beads, bleached out instead of the dark brown that he was so used to.

Despite that, he _ did _ look good. Older, with the outfit and the bleached dreads, and Aiden _ desperately _ wanted to be a fly on the wall for whatever conversation these activist kids had held over _ that_, but healthier. More relaxed. The wrinkles at the corners of his blue eyes were deeper, laugh lines heavier than the furrows in his brow.

Weird, how much difference four years could make. Aiden couldn’t remember if Ray had always had those laugh lines, or if they were new.

His phone vibrated, once, twice, five times as Ray offhandedly invited him to visit sometime. He made a noise of affirmation—not a promise, because he couldn’t promise to be in town long enough for that—and pulled it out, glancing down at the screen.

The last three texts were mostly professional, Jordi’s update on his own contract. Some Auntie Shu that had gone rogue, working against the family for their own profit. The gang was having a hard time tracking the traitor down, hence Jordi’s involvement. The first text was a picture of a wall mural, muscular men in leather harnesses spelling out the word ‘Love’.

Underneath it, Jordi had sent, ‘this could be us but u playin’.

“Jesus christ,” Aiden muttered, scrolling back down to the _ important _ information. He hadn’t thought about Ray’s presence at his shoulder until the man snorted softly.

“When’d you start working with someone again? I thought you were lone wolfing it.” He didn’t sound upset, only interested—figured, since he had the kids here to keep him busy and didn’t need Aiden barreling into his life to wreck everything again. All the same, Aiden felt his ears heat a bit.

“Uh—” He cleared his throat, stumbled over how to describe the bizarre turn of events that had lead to him being _ here _ , texting Jordi with the mixture of work and play, matching their schedules up to the point that Jordi had flown over the ocean and picked up this job at lower than his usual rate just because Aiden was in town. It was one thing to offhandedly admit they were dating to cashiers, hotel front desks, waitresses, bartenders, _ strangers_. Even if it made his skin itch with the wary desire to throw a punch just in case.

But this was different. This was _ Ray_, who was tentatively his friend, and someone he actually knew and liked. He’d never told anyone he’d _ liked _ about this sort of thing. It was one of the thorns that had eventually shredded his relationship with Damien.

“Uh, about a year ago,” he tried again, ignoring the keen, suspicious look in Ray’s eyes. “I mean, I knew him before then, but things just sort of happened to pan out that way. Working together, that is.”

“Working together,” Ray said, voice dry and neutral.

“Working together,” Aiden repeated, stubborn and pretending like neither of them had seen the picture of the mural.

Before Ray got the chance to pry—and he _ would_, Aiden had the prickling feeling on his neck that told him he wasn’t out of the woods yet—Josh made a soft noise of triumph. He hadn’t expected the loud group in the center of the Hackerspace to be listening, but that was his second shock of the evening, all three of them coming over within seconds.

“What have we got, Josh?” Marcus asked, leaning over the desk to look at one of the monitors. His arms were no longer draped over Wrench’s shoulders, but their fingers were now tightly entwined instead, not quite hidden between their bodies as Wrench propped his chin on Marcus’s shoulder.

Aiden couldn’t imagine being that clingy with someone.

“The encryption wasn’t as secure as it first seemed,” Josh said, gaze still locked onto his screen, voice flat for all that he’d sounded excited seconds earlier. “This is mostly names and data attached to them—height, weight, blood type, body fat percentage. Some of them have measurements attached too, but not all of them. The survey data is attached to each individual too, but most of the questions are bunk.”

“So why bother having them take it at all?” Sitara asked, her hand curled over the back of Josh’s chair.

“Stalling for time?” Marcus suggested, a small crease between his brows as he scanned the lists.

“Preparing a holding area, maybe,” Aiden said, keeping himself about a foot back from the rest of the group. “There were some notes about organ harvesting in the documents that lead me here, so if they’re separating by medical history or intended sales, then they’d need to have separate holding areas for each person.”

“That’s _ sick_,” Marcus said, voice heavy with disgust.

“Is CatSkillz on there?” The hard edge to Sitara’s clipped question caught Aiden’s interest, his eyes sliding over. Tension kept her stiff, the muscles in her back tight where they peeked through the holes in her sweater. She’d had that edge to her voice when they were in the survey building too.

A friend, then. No wonder this group was all over it, even if this sort of thing wasn’t DedSec’s usual kind of mission. It had to be killing them, having one of their own go missing.

“I don’t know,” Josh said, flat voice softer now. The lists were scrolling by at speed. “I have shipping documents, a couple locations that could be where they’re holding people before sending them out, the liaison for the overseas trade—”

“Wait.” Aiden moved forward, ignoring the unstated personal bubble surrounding the four and leaning in to look at the document in question. “No, wait, I know this guy. He’s a rogue Auntie Shu, went off the grid about a month back.”

“You’ve been here for a _ month_?” Sitara asked, incredulously. Under that question, Aiden could hear the real one: ‘and you didn’t stop them before now?’

“Two days, actually. But my partner, he was hired on from the mainland to find this guy—the Auntie Shus can’t track him, so they turned to an outside fixer. He’s been running that while I was in town for this.” His gaze slid sideways, from the name of the liaison to the locations of the storage facilities. No promise that he’d get those otherwise, so he memorized them now, before DedSec could decide they were done working with him.

“He was funding this operation too,” Josh said, pulling up the lease for the office building. “His name is on all the leases, and it looks like he’s fronting the cash for the initial shipping fees.”

“Okay, so, we find this guy—” Marcus started to say.

“—And then we fuck him up!” Wrench finished for him, the neutral X’s on his mask swapping to hard slashes. Angry eyebrows, if Aiden was guessing right. Like in a cartoon.

“Some of these warehouses are bound to be dummy locations,” Sitara muttered, one painted nail tracking an inch above the monitor as she bounced from lease to lease. “We can’t afford to jump on the wrong one and scare him. Can your partner get us the guy’s location?”

“I can ask.” Aiden stepped back, then took another step back away from Ray’s prying gaze as he picked up his phone again. “Am I allowed to meet him near here?”

“Twenty-four hour cafe down the block,” Wrench said, tinny voice cheerful. “Just safer for everyone like that, you know?”

“And Marcus can meet him with you. That way we get the information right away.” Sitara’s gaze was just as prying as Ray’s, if for different reasons. At least, he hoped it was for different reasons. The weird combination of hero-worship and suspicion was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He sent the address of the cafe to Jordi, along with a request for everything he had on his Auntie Shu target. If their cases were connected, then Jordi would want to know. And after the unnerving combination of Ray’s surprise presence and DedSec’s interest in him, Jordi’s sarcastic opinions on everything would be a breath of fresh air.

Predictably, Jordi thought getting coffee at this time of night was _ stupid_, but he agreed to come. And then, curiously, a question about the game shop he’d passed through on his way to the Hackerspace.

Aiden frowned at his phone, but it was a harmless enough question. He wouldn’t have figured Jordi for a tabletop kind of guy. He couldn’t remember well enough to answer it, but he’d take a look around the store one his way back up.

“He’ll be here in twenty. I’m going up to meet him, if you want to come with.” With a tip of his head to Marcus, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the stairs, carefully stepping over cables as he went. The difference between the Hackerspace and the Bunker wasn’t as great as it originally seemed in that regard, at least.

The sound of an argument breaking out reached his ears as he got to the door. It wasn’t unexpected though, so he left without turning back, taking a quick picture of the D&D shelf for Jordi in lieu of a typed response. He could make it to the cafe on his own, and if they wanted _ their _ guy there, they’d send Marcus up in due time.

For a second, he remembered the sick shock on the kid’s face when Aiden had stopped the guard from killing him. Might be that they wouldn’t send anyone up at all. And unlike Clara, there wasn’t some other underlying motive for the fear there—they were just kids unused to that level of violence, not prepared for the consequences of something like that.

Another reason to look forward to Jordi’s arrival. The memory of Marcus overlaid the memory of Clara overlaid the memory of Jacks, curled up under a security console, terrified of _ him_, the one person who he shouldn’t be scared of. He hated the lingering feeling of guilt that came with it, deserved or not.

The barista didn’t question him ordering at this time of night, and he sat down at one of the outside tables despite the chill in the air. Minutes later, a heavy muscle car pulled around the corner of the park, rolling to a stop in a nearby parking space. It was pitch black, with tinted windows, and Aiden’s fingers itched to grab the wheel.

Later, he promised himself as Jordi swung out of the driver’s seat, suit brilliantly white under the streetlights. He’d convince Jordi to let him go joyriding in it _ later_.

“You think they’re open this time of night?” Jordi asked, sitting down in the chair across from him, pressing his calf firmly against Aiden’s. A tightness in his chest eased, some of the stress from being underground with too-eager kids draining away.

“The game store?” With the cafe obviously open, it was the only real option. He couldn’t figure out Jordi’s angle on it, though. “There wasn’t anyone behind the register when I came out. It’s close to midnight, so you’ll probably have to come back in the morning.”

Jordi heaved a world-weary sigh, then sipped at his coffee suspiciously. “Figures. When did you learn my coffee order?”

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Aiden grinned, bumping his knee into Jordi’s. Up the block, he could see Marcus emerge from the games shop, turning and coming their way, his steps slowing as he got closer. There was a frown on his face, one that Aiden was pretty sure he hadn’t earned yet.

He’d been nothing _ but _ helpful. Maybe the Council of Daves had more hooks in San Francisco’s chapter than he’d thought. It was the best explanation he could think of.

Jordi must have seen something in his face, because he dropped whatever ramble he was on about—wizards?—and twisted in his seat to follow Aiden’s gaze. The moment he did, Marcus stiffened, chin jerking up and one hand half-reaching back for the nasty little blunt-force instrument hanging off the back of his belt. “There is _ no way_—”

“Hi, cupcake,” Jordi said, a nasty smile on his face. “Or maybe mint chocolate chip? Nah, too long for a nickname, and ‘ice cream’ just sounds weird.”

Aiden stared. He’d fallen into some bizarre alternate reality at some point, or maybe he’d been knocked out during the rush to escape from the survey building. That was the only explanation for the way Marcus was bristling defensively, the way Jordi was leaning forward like a cat with a mouse under its paw. In a second, he’d wake up from whatever coma dream he’d fallen into, and everything would make sense again.

“You are _ not _his partner! No!” Marcus sounded exasperated, or maybe hysterical—hard to tell. “I can’t handle you a second time, man!”

“Aww, but I enjoyed our time together _ so _ much that I had to come back—and look! You’ve got info on my guy again. It’s like we’re meant to be.” Jordi’s nasty smile widened, body twisted around so he could pointedly drink his coffee while staring Marcus down.

“Uh,” said Aiden, because that last sentence had sounded dangerously close to a proposal, and they hadn’t fully outlined their rules for a potential threeway yet. He was imposing an age limit, at least.

They ignored him.

“No, I’m drawing the fucking line _ right here_. You left me on a yacht to get arrested!”

“Well, you _ didn’t_. Which was rude of you, by the way, but I’m in a forgiving mood. Like, an exceptionally good one, lucky for you.”

“Why are you even here? You said you hated San Francisco!”

“Still do, and the real estate market is even _ worse _ now. Very impressive. But you know how it is—work calls, I answer, _ you _help out. This is a fun dynamic. I’m having fun.”

“I’m not! Look, man, you threatened to kill everyone in the shop last time, why do you think I wanna work with you _ now_?”

“The threat still stands, you know. I can still make _ plenty _ of examples if I have to.”

“Oh-_kay_,” Aiden said, loudly, kicking Jordi’s leg for good measure. “Somehow you two know each other. That makes things easier, because I don’t have to introduce you.”

“Uh, yeah you do? I don’t even know his name, man, he just rolled up, ruined my day, and left again.” Marcus leveled him with a look that was both incredulous and disappointed, like his mother when Aiden had pulled a particularly dumb stunt when he was younger. 

“CtOS,” Aiden started to say, before narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, “doesn’t have him on record. Alright. His name is Jordi Chin. Jordi, this is Marcus. _ Play nice_.”

“You’re just ruining my fun on purpose, aren’t you?” Jordi said sourly, rubbing at his shin. Aiden had probably left a scuff on his pants, but he’d apologize for that later. He knew that Jordi was well used to dry cleaning worse substances out, at least.

“I am, just for kicks,” Aiden said dryly, standing up and finishing his coffee in one go. “We need DedSec’s help for this one, and you don’t actually need to threaten them for it. Listen, Marcus—he’s good at his job. He’ll be a useful second point on whichever warehouse we narrow it down to. You might as well bring him in on it, because Jordi’s going to be there _ anyways_.”

Marcus watched him with narrowed eyes, the streetlights catching on the lens of his glasses and hiding the exact place he was looking at. His arms were folded, weapon nowhere in sight, and the tap of his foot was just as disapproving as his look earlier had been. Given the way his fingers twitched up slightly towards his ear, the rest of DedSec was probably on the line with him.

Below him, Jordi sulked, drinking his own coffee sedately and making no move to get out of his chair. One hand snaked up to wrap around Aiden’s leg, his palm hot where it pressed into the fabric of his jeans, sharp contrast to the cool evening air. It had probably been his idea of a joke to come out here without warning Aiden that he had history… or maybe he’d forgotten. Jordi had been to a lot of places, and sometimes it seemed like he couldn’t keep track of all the lives he’d touched—or ended.

Not that Aiden had much room to talk. He could remember the disappointed glance Marcus had given him in the car, Aiden’s inability to remember his savior dampening the hero worship that wanted to bubble up. In his defense, he hadn’t seen Marcus at the time. Unlike Jordi, apparently.

He didn’t want to know what Jordi’s explanation for the ice cream comment was.

“You sure, Sit?” Marcus said, confirming Aiden’s suspicion that they’d been on the line with him the whole time.

“Stay. Roll over.” Jordi’s muttered comments were just soft enough that only Aiden could hear it, fingers flexing against his thigh. He snorted softly, tensing his leg to push back against the pressure, but kept his eyes on Marcus.

The kid heaved a sigh, oddly reminiscent of Jordi’s from earlier, then shook his head. “Alright, yeah, you’re right. It’s _ my _ ass on the line, though. I’ll bring ‘em over.”

“Change of plans?” Aiden asked dryly.

“We’re going as far in as the games shop, but he’s _ not _ coming down to the Hackerspace. Sitara figures that since he already knows where it _ is_, the games shop is neutral territory.” Marcus didn’t look very happy about it, but Aiden supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. Jordi was an experience. Most people weren’t lucky—or unlucky, depending on the perspective—enough to get the experience twice.

“Oh, good. I can set aside some of those handbooks since we’re in there,” Jordi said, mercurial mood already back up to smug satisfaction again. It was truly incredible how quickly he could swing from irritation to glee with no stops in between.

His hand stayed on Aiden, shifting from his thigh to his shoulder as Jordi stood, leaving his own empty mug behind with Aiden’s. Probably a bit rude not to take them in, but Aiden didn’t care. The grip on his shoulder was tight as they walked to the shop, Marcus hunched inward and muttering into his earpiece ahead of them.

Jordi liked to touch him, Aiden knew that. He usually returned the favor, because they brushed up against each other in ways that didn’t draw suspicion much, and he liked having Jordi’s hands on him. But there was an edge of possessiveness to the way Jordi’s hand curled over the leather of his jacket, an unspoken demand for him to pay attention to _ Jordi _ instead of anything else.

Was he _ jealous_?

The realization hit Aiden like a bus, stopping his breath as they stepped into the warm lighting of the game shop. Sitara was upstairs again, hostile and glowering at Jordi, Wrench next to her attempting to look menacing. It might have been more effective if Aiden wasn’t aware of the two handguns Jordi always kept in his coat, the third at his waist, a knife strapped to his calf where Aiden’s leg had rubbed earlier. As it was, it seemed more funny than intimidating.

He wondered if Ray and Josh were staying downstairs, where it was safe. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever given Ray a proper rundown of the lighthouse incident.

Jordi’s hand shifted from his shoulder to his back, dragging over the leather slowly and deliberately. He _ was _ jealous, jealous and staking his claim, because Aiden hadn’t bothered to touch base with any other fixers or hackers since he’d left Chicago. No one but Jordi, at least. It was hard to decide whether he was flattered or appalled by the behavior.

“We need the info on your Auntie Shu guy,” Aiden said, breaking the ice and ignoring the hand resting just above his ass. “He’s connected to this organ-trade and sex trafficking ring I was chasing down here, and it looks like he’s been funding all the shipping and holding costs out of pocket. You think that’s from the stolen funds?”

“How much am I getting paid to help you out with this?” Jordi asked, his dark eyes boring into the three kids in front of them. From the sharp, offended noise that came out of Wrench, they hadn’t been expecting that.

“Uh, _ nothing_,” Marcus said, taking point on the negotiation. Familiarity with the subject might have nominated him. Or maybe Sitara—the one that Aiden had privately marked as the real leader of the group—was just biding her time. “Man, we’re not paying you, not after what you pulled last time. You’re lucky we even want to _ help_.”

“Sounds to _ me _ like you need my info more than I need _ your _ info,” Jordi said, nastily, hand sliding down and squeezing.

“_Jordi_.” Aiden waited for Jordi to actually look at him, then carefully and pointedly reached down to pull the hand off his ass. “You’re not helping them, you’re helping me, first off. Second, if you’re going to grope me in public, at least do me a favor and put your hands _ under _my jacket, not over it.”

For a few tense seconds, he wasn’t sure if his ploy had worked. Marcus was staring at him like he’d grown two heads and Jordi had that narrow-eyed look of consideration that said he was trying to decide if he wanted to be angry about something. Then his expression cracked, amusement chasing over his features as he chuckled and slung his arm over Aiden’s shoulders instead.

“Alright, fine. I’ll play nice with the woke geeks.” From the sputter that came from Marcus, ‘woke geeks’ wasn’t any better than Jordi’s pet names, but Aiden would take what little he got. Getting Jordi to cooperate at _ all _ was a feat—given last night, he must have felt particularly indulgent of Aiden’s whims.

“With _ that _ settled,” Aiden muttered, returning his attention to the rest of the group, “once we have Jordi’s information on the traitor, we’ll have to narrow down the warehouses. Have you got any plans for that?”

“Not yet,” Sitara said, eyes narrowed. Wrench and Marcus were still staring at him, hitting the same uncomfortable note as the hero worship from before, but Aiden did his best to ignore it. Assuming there were cameras in here, the pending conversation with Ray was _ much _ worse to think about.

“Well, let me enlighten you.” Jordi flashed one of his feral smiles, leaning more heavily against Aiden’s shoulder. “Li Wei Liu is a first-gen immigrant, been part of the Auntie Shus for about twenty-three years now. Every four years, he makes a trip back to the mainland, and he’s one of their main mediators—so him going off the grid? Not great for business. They figured out he’s been skimming off the top for the last three years, and mainland was about to send someone to straighten him out before he went AWOL. That’s where I come in: I’m the slap on the wrist.”

“Yeah, and I just _ bet _ he’ll live long enough to regret it,” Marcus muttered, finally shaking off whatever revelation he’d had over Aiden’s sexuality.

Jordi snorted. “I know he’s been bunking out of a warehouse on the east end, near the Ferry Building. Get me the list of leases, and I can give you the number he’s based out of. Not positive which one has the girls in it though—he’s got three he’s currently running ops out of, near as I can tell, and it looks like he doesn’t ship them out until the AM anyways. No idea what day of the week he does it.”

“CatSkillz went missing two days ago,” Sitara said, clearly talking into whatever group call they had set up again. Aiden was beginning to find that habit very annoying. “Josh, see if there’s anything in the files indicating schedule.”

“We might get lucky and catch her before she’s moved,” Marcus said, eyes lighting up.

“Who’s _ we_?” Jordi asked, brows coming down sharply. The arm around Aiden’s shoulders tightened, and he bit off a sigh before sliding his own hand into Jordi’s back pocket. It made the gun holstered at Jordi’s waist dig into his arm, but it also gave him a bit of leverage in the event Jordi tried to lunge forward and kill someone.

Not that he expected Jordi to do that, not really. Methodical and calculated, that was more his style—Aiden knew he was the spontaneous one out of the two of them. Still. He had a history with Marcus, somehow, and Aiden wasn’t sure if it was the kind of history that would involve Jordi burying the kid in an unmarked grave first chance he got. Better to nip the behavior in the bud.

“You, me, Marcus,” he said, before any of the DedSec kids could speak up. Sitara straightened instantly, hostility once again radiating from her posture, but he cut off whatever objections she wanted to put up. “Retr0’s your point guy on most of these anyways, and he can look for your friend while I handle the rest of the victims. With Jordi on lookout above, we can avoid the same issue we ran into at the survey office. But three people’s already a crowd, so having more of _ your _ people on the ground is a liability.”

“Hey!” Wrench yelped, mask flickering through expressions like he couldn’t decide on which layer of offense he wanted to register.

But Marcus was frowning, not in the disappointed way from earlier, more contemplative. “No, I think he has a point. I mean, I’d be running the ground op on this either way—this just means we know where _ they _ are at the same time.”

He’d been boxed in with Jordi, Aiden noted, fighting down a wry smile. Apparently his pedestal was well and truly broken now. At least it meant that DedSec was approaching him as an equal now, not a mixture of hero and villain. That would keep them sane in the field.

There was a mutinous look on Sitara’s face, but her head tipped as someone came over the group call. Her scowl deepened, then vanished as she sighed and lifted her hands in defeat. “Josh says that it looks like there’s a hidden schedule in the data. The next shipment goes out tonight, in three hours. He’s comparing addresses against it now, so we’ll have time to set up.”

“So…?” Aiden prompted, as gently as he could.

“So you’ll get your way,” she said, sourly. “We’re hitting the warehouse tonight. You, him, and Marcus. But Wrench and I are going to be waiting in the wings. Just in case.”


	3. [NO RECORD]

**September 15th, 2017 02:58**

  


The fog was starting to roll in, thick and soupy, all the classic San Francisco notes coming out to play. Up this high, it wasn’t affecting him _ directly_, but the humidity still ate into the fabric of his suit, his lungs, trying to fog up his fucking sights. Christ, he hated this fucking city.

Through the magnification of his scope, he watched Aiden climb on top of a truck and swing up through an open window on the second floor of the warehouse. That stupid jacket of his obscured most of his movement, but there was a second at the apex of his swing where it was flowing up and open through the air and Jordi caught a tantalizing hint of firm thighs flexing under the denim of his shitty jeans. 

Ugh. The sooner they were done with this shit, the better.

He trailed his attention over to the opposite side of the warehouse, watching “Retr0”—what a fucking name, what was _ with _ hackers and these ridiculous handles—pull a similar stunt to climb up. His movements were smoother, the skinny jeans hugging his hips as his sneakers gripped the wall easily while he bounced up to the window. Unlike Aiden, the kid was still in his prime instead of contending with decades of broken bones and muscle injuries.

Pretty nice legs on that one too, come to think of it. Jordi idly contemplated how they’d feel wrapped around his waist, dragging his sights down towards the vehicle entrances on the far side of the building. These hipster fucks had a whole hero-worship thing around Aiden, right? Maybe he could swing for a threesome. Get one good thing out of this shitty, shitty trip.

His lips twitched up into a thin smile as he narrowed in on a guard standing near the corner of the dock, away from his post to steal a quick smoke. Between the suppressor on his rifle and the plugs in his ears, Jordi didn’t hear the crack of the gun, feeling only the dull thud of air pressure and the kick of it back against his shoulder. A half-second later, the guard dropped, falling into the water with no one the wiser. 

“You know,” he said contemplatively, tracking over the patrol route to find another guard so far out of the way that no one would notice him missing, “we should do this more often. Me, up here, having fun. You, down there, getting dirty. Lose the jacket next time though, it makes you look dumb.”

“Noted,” Aiden said wryly, his voice low and rich over the speaker in his ear.

“Also I don’t get to admire your ass when you’re wearing it.” The second guard dropped, though not in the water this time. Oh well. The rest of the guys were beginning to look all worried and shit, a fair number of them reaching their hands up to their ears. Must be doing a call and response.

“You shouldn’t be paying attention to my ass while we’re working anyways. There’s a cluster of guards on my radar about twenty feet ahead—are they on the roof or are they in the building?” Aiden’s tone went slightly distant, refocusing in on the job. How very professional of him.

Which was fucking rich for a guy who didn’t even make money off this shit anymore. All this… revenge shit or whatever—it wasn’t even _ really _ about revenge anymore. Cynically, Jordi figured Aiden just didn’t know what to do with himself if he didn’t have someone to hurt. The cause was a justification, not a strongly held ideal. “I’ve got five on the roof, so you’ve got the rest inside. Have fun. Maybe take your shirt off when you come back out.”

“Guys, I am _ on _ this _ line_,” Marcus finally said, exasperated.

“I get bored up here all alone,” Jordi said instead of the polite social apology that should have gone in that spot. The first of the rooftop five dropped like a lead balloon, the other four whipping their guns out and craning their heads like it would help them see jack shit. Just for fun, Jordi popped one in the kidney, watching it travel through his buddy’s spine. The fourth got a professional bullet through his eye socket.

He let the fifth run for a few seconds before finally putting the terrified little fucker out of his misery.

“You know, it’s a little like plinking squirrels on a fence.” Two of the guards were running for one of the side doors. Jordi lined it up to get them both in one shot, an explosion of blood and bone shards as the bullet drove through the first man’s head and into the second man’s throat. “Or like… have you ever just seen a bunch of ants on the ground so you start dripping water on them to watch ‘em panic?”

“I bet you were the kind of kid to kill neighborhood pets,” Aiden said, though there was a hint of strain in his voice. Jordi considered it, then dismissed it.

“Nah, that’s a little passe, even for me. Unless you think it’s hot. Have you got a fetish for serial killers, Pearce?” A thin, mean grin flashed over his face again—there was a concept, fucking Hannibal the Cannibal roleplay, maybe Aiden would be willing to play Clarice—as he tracked over the rest of the outside guards. Still plenty of targets to choose from.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now,” Aiden said, which was basically a confirmation of the fact. A second later, a series of booms rocked through the warehouse, the rumble loud enough that even Jordi could hear it from outside, not just over comms.

“Jesus!” Marcus’s voice swung up high and scared, and then a half second later he said, “Fuck, fuck, they’ve got guys on boats. I’m opening up the street-side doors for the girls.”

“I’ll take care of the boats.” Aiden’s voice was uncharacteristically grim, all the dry humor gone.

Behind his scope, Jordi frowned. He couldn’t see the dock from this side, the buildings around not nearly tall enough for him to get a good angle on it. If he’d had more than a couple hours notice, he might have been able to swing a higher vantage point.

On the street, a couple of branded vans pulled up, graffiti sprayed all up the sides. These fucking punks with their weird goddamn marketing schemes—he liked the hackers that were all grim faced and anonymous more. At least those guys had a little sense of class, not like these kids with their _ morals _ and _ values _ and _ videos on oppression_. Christ. It was tempting to knock the engine out of one of them, but he was supposed to be helping.

Well, he wasn’t helping enough from up here.

Using the fire escape, he climbed down from his perch, rifle slung over one shoulder and his case carried in his non-dominant hand. No promises that he’d be able to return for it afterwards, so he wasn’t taking chances. The rental sat at the curb, doors unlocking as Jordi came closer, and he pocketed a spare magazine before leaving his case in the backseat. If he needed more than twenty bullets, they were way more fucked than he thought.

Ignoring the kids helping the scared and shaking women into the vans, he strode towards the warehouse. There was a redhead talking hard and fast with Sitara close to the doors, and Jordi ignored them too—even after Sitara looked up and called after him angrily. She could fucking deal with it.

“Hey!” she said again, much closer to him the second time. Magnanimously, he decided not to break her neck for it. “Where are you _ going_? You were supposed to stay up top and cover us!”

“Your little buddy told you that they were bringing guys in on boats, right? I’m going to go play fish in a barrel with ‘em. If you want me to _ help_, you’ll get back to herding the bonus points back into the vans, huh?” He glanced at her once, dismissively, then went back to ignoring her.

Like the smart cookie she was, she stopped following him. Fucking finally.

With all the guards on this side of the building dead, it was easy for him to slip through the doors. There were old circuit breakers spitting static across the floor, a piece of construction equipment tipped over on its side, and a few unconscious men scattered around, mostly hanging off the catwalks stretching down either side of the warehouse. His fingers itched to pull the pistol out from the small of his back and finish them off but—later. Time was a factor.

The front section of the warehouse is clearly where they were holding the women, and Jordi found Marcus tucked up against the upstairs door into the back, holding his stungun like it was worth a damn and swearing under his breath. The line between them and Aiden was still quiet, which meant Aiden wasn’t checking in. Not the way he was supposed to be. Which meant he was busy.

The wrong kind of busy. Jordi really hated it when Aiden paid attention to anything but him. Call him jealous; it was true, after all. His hand landed on Marcus’s shoulder, voice hissing into the space between them and the commline, “Hold up a second. Where’s Aiden?”

No response from Aiden, but Marcus’s voice rang out in stereo, “Uh, he’s up front, I had to—there were a lot of guys and the doors were locked, so I fell back to open them up. Man, I don’t know if I can get out there—”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re coming with me. You have that little toy of yours right?” His fist curled tighter on the back of Marcus’s jacket, hauling him up as the kid squawked in dismay. “The one I kept shooting out of the air last time we tangoed.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m not about to let you use it as target practice while shit’s hitting the fan down there.” To his credit, Marcus didn’t hesitate once Jordi pushed him through the door. He was prudent as he ghosted down the catwalk on feather-light feet, kicking himself up on the railing at one point to avoid the sightlines from the other entrance.

Jordi followed on his heels, keeping a hard eye on the lower floor. There were pallets stacked around and supplies for the boats that usually brought people in and out, and those were what Aiden was using for inefficient cover. None of them had the solidity that a concrete wall would bring, and that _ pissed him off_.

“You look fucking stupid down there,” he said into his mic, hooking the barrel of the rifle over the catwalk railing. Not as sturdy as he’d prefer, a slight waver when he sighted in on the boats coming in but—well. Barely a hundred yards out. It was fucking child’s play compared to his usual targets.

“Spare me the commentary, Jordi,” Aiden said, in the distant sort of way he always spoke when he was focused on a job. “I’m a little busy.”

“Yeah, I can see that, idiot. I thought you would’ve learned your lesson about taking on thirty guys at a time back in Tampa.” At his hip, Marcus was crouched down with his laptop open, loading something onto the drone. He didn’t care enough to figure out what they were, since he only wanted the drone as a distraction—and the kid as collateral. Might keep his friends honest.

“Are you planning on doing anything about it?” And _ there _ it was, Aiden’s focus finally returning to the most important thing in the room: him. Jordi grinned, sighting in on the pilot of a boat coming in on a tight turn. A half second later, the boat was flipping, smashing into another one as the guy behind the wheel died a very messy death.

“You tell me,” he purred, already looking for another target. The men inside the warehouse, he’d leave those to Aiden—not enough bullets for all of them, but even the possibility of support had taken some of the tight dread out of Aiden’s shoulders.

The usual inane bullshit spilled from his lips as he found his targets again and again. Men steering the boats, men loading weapons, men hefting explosives—always the most critical on the boats, always the targets that caused the most damage with the fewest bullets. Occasionally, the little drone zipped past his view, but it wasn’t until Jordi swung his rifle towards a boat on the left that he realized what the kid was doing.

Every single person on the boat was knocked out, the engine dead from the blast of electricity that followed the drop of a small device right in the center. That was a _ nasty _ little toy.

“You know what, Mint Chocolate Chip? I _ like _ you.” His smile stretched wider at the disgusted noise Marcus made, sighting a different boat entirely. There were barely any people left at this point, the last boat a straggler that three bullets in the engine block finished off. Clean. Easy.

And, when he glanced down again at where Aiden was nudging a dead body with his foot, phone in one hand and rifle held loose and easy in the other one, there wasn’t any of Aiden’s blood on the ground. No holes in his jacket, no cringing in pain that he was trying to hide, no grim tightness in his shoulders like he was stressed about something. No injuries. Just like Jordi wanted.

“Shit, man, we gotta clear out before the cops arrive,” Marcus said, his voice curiously absent from Jordi’s side. When he glanced down, the spot on the catwalk next to him was empty, and a quick scan of the warehouse showed Marcus looking into the security office held high above the first floor, his eyes locked onto the screens displaying camera feeds.

“I’ll meet you in the front,” Aiden said, already sprinting across the concrete floors with no hesitation in his step. So no sprains or muscle tears either. Not _ quite _ a repeat of Tampa, at least.

“Come on, get going,” Jordi said, slinging the rifle up over his shoulder and grabbing Marcus’s arm. The kid came without hesitation, shaking his grip off and taking the lead down the catwalks, swinging over the edge down to the ground floor with a lithe grace that put Jordi in the mind of a ménage à trois all over again. Had to bring that up with Aiden at some point.

The vans full of women were gone, all of them out and being taken to various safehouses now that DedSec was involved. Sitara was still standing by a car of her own, rigid tension lining her shoulders, and she only relaxed once Marcus waved her down and headed for the driver’s seat. Aiden was already across the road, loading his own things into the back of Jordi’s car, wiping some of the sweat off his cheek. Still uninjured. Not hiding anything.

“We should do this again sometime,” Jordi said, winking roguishly at the kids just to see all three of them react with varying levels of dismay at the idea. Millennials and their _ morals_. It would be cute if it wasn’t so annoying. “I’ll be in touch. Toodles!”

“Yeah man, fuck you too,” Marcus muttered as a parting shot, turning the car on. They left at speed, probably following their victim vans or whatever, while Jordi climbed into the passenger seat of his rental. Probably wouldn’t like him coming back to their little base of operations, but depending on how much money he stood to lose if Li Wei Liu went to ground, he might do it anyways. They owed him.

But for now…

“You wanna get some donuts? I’m feeling donuts.” Jordi asked, stretching his legs out as Aiden made the engine roar, blasting down the road at speed. From the quiet look of delight on his face, he’d been wanting to make her open up for hours now.

“Depends. Do you still want me to take my shirt off?” He glanced over, green eyes bright with the vindictive pleasure of a job well done, muted only by the honest joy he seemed to take in driving sometimes. The flush on his cheeks said that there was a blow job in his future if Jordi didn’t take steps to sabotage it.

Jordi grinned. “We can do both. I’m _ great _ at multitasking.”


End file.
